26/11/93

The Day That Never Was

Christopher Mizrachi reached the border in a few minutes, sailing through as the Jordanian officials waved amiably.

    It was a typical snowy August morning in Kiryat Ono. Christopher Mizrahi kissed his wives goodbye and hurried down to the heated garage. He got into his beat-up old Rolls Royce and drove off to the Levinger yeshiva in Amman, where he taught yoga on Mondays and Thursdays.
    He turned off Rehov Arafat and glided into the flow of traffic at Suicide Square, waving at the friendly policeman helping a huge old lady cross the street. Nobody honked at her to hurry up.
    Just past the Savyon oil wells he saw three hitchhikers, one, a soldier, the other two, swarthy men brandishing long knives. Strange, Mizrahi thought, that no one had yet stopped to give them a lift. He pulled over and beckoned to the two swarthy men.
    "Where to?"
    One of them, a Mr. Jihad, explained that they had to get to an isolated moshav down the road. "We're volunteers," Mr. Jihad told him, "helping the Jewish farmers harvest their banana crop." That was obvious, for why else would they be carrying machetes?
    They came to a sign that read "Moshav Chmielnicki" and Christopher Mizrahi stopped the car under a large maple tree bedecked in autumn colors.
    "Shalom," said the swarthy men. 
    "Have a nice day," said Mizrahi sincerely.
     Back on the superhighway, Mizrahi turned on the radio. It was 7:21 a.m., time for the daily news report.
    "Good morning, this is Kol Yisrael. At the top of the news, Rabbi Jones of Kalkiliya flew to the armistice negotiations in Bosnia this morning but forgot his tefillin at home. The Serbs said it showed lack of faith and  abruptly broke off the talks.
    "At the Knesset, Prime Minister Without Mandate Yitzhak Rabin announced he was not planning to jump to Likud, but that he would vote for them next time. Likud leader Netanyahu begged David Levy to head the party, but Levy said he'd rather work for a living. The leader of the Buddhist faction of United Tora Judaism, Thukkit Al, criticized the Knesset groundskeeper for using imported fertilizer. The groundskeeper responded that he was very ashamed and would resign.  Likud MK Aharon Abuhatzeira introduced a non-confidence motion, saying that the Knesset was no place for 'thieves who steal from the public.' A Shas spokesman said they were very ashamed and would resign.
    "Former prime minister Yitzhak Shamir began his new job as consulate-general in Hollywood, California, grinning merrily as he received a contingent of Jewish starlets wishing to make aliya. Shamir advised them not to.
    "In other news, the last of the unemployed Russian musician immigrants found employment late yesterday. Unemployment officials announced that unemployment was down to 0 percent, the lowest figure in years, but warned that the figure would increase this morning, when the unemployment officials applied for unemployment benefits from the last employed unemployment clerk, who was, thankfully, due for retirement at 3 this afternoon anyway.
    "Hospitals across the country reported that there were no births, deaths, accidents, injured, sick, wounded or chronic hypochondriacs all day yesterday, no one in the country had a single doctor's appointment and everyone in post-op had healed and gone home. In related news, the nurses' strike ended suddenly.
    "In sports, Israel won."
    The traffic light turned yellow and Christopher Mizrahi slammed on the brakes. He noticed the car in the next lane was not a white Subaru and didn't have a "JPS" logo on the side.
     At the green light, Mizrahi signaled a right turn and actually turned right, pulling off at the Howard Johnson's motel at the Jordanian border. For half a shekel he could drink all the coffee he wanted. He ordered the bacon and eggs, made a bracha and tucked in.    
        Just as he finished breakfast, a couple of Hell's Angels bikers (there was no mistaking them, because of the Citizen's Rights tattoos on their forearms) sitting at the next table invited Mizrahi to say the Prayer After Meals with them. He left a tip, pinched the ugly waitress and burped loudly. He blushed and apologized to the other diners.
    Back on the road, Christopher reached the border in a few minutes, sailing through as the Jordanian officials waved amiably.
    He got to work a few minutes early, winked at the big mezuza on the front door and headed straight for the office of the Rosh Yeshiva. She smiled. 
    "I have good news," she said in Aramaic. "The Mets won yesterday. Yankele hit a home run!" Yankele Finkelstein had been the pride of the Rabbinic League, becoming the first Belz shortstop in the majors. But then she sobered. "There's bad news too. Typhoon in Papua. Dozens of homeless goyim." They muttered a prayer together for the poor innocents.
    Mizrahi proceeded to his office. A young man was waiting for him. "Reb Christopher!" It was Ahmed, an exchange student from Islamic College. He was holding open a book of learned text. "I think I've found it, right here in the Rambam's ג€˜Commiserationsג€™!"
    "Nu?"
    "Proof that Elvis was the Moshiach!"
    "So I was right."
    It was a short school day because there was nothing left to learn. The yeshiva assembled for mincha, said most of it and then broke for lunch. Some of the students went off to the race track. A few banded together to dance a hora. Somebody organized a demonstration, and Mizrahi was urged to join.
    "What's the beef?" he asked. "Shabbos desecration again?"
    The organizer shook his head. "Nah. We've given up on that."
    Mizrahi followed him down to the road where a few dozen angry protesters threw linen swatches at passing cars and yelled "Shatnes! Shatnes!" One car screeched to a stop and four Mormon ruffians piled out. They got into a heated debate with the yeshiva bochers about the folly of religion and everybody conceded that the other side had a point.
    When nobody had anything more to say, Mizrahi got into his car and sped to the border. He crossed the raging Jordan River, made a right and a quick left. He passed the faded "Welcome to Friendly Jericho" sign and parked the car where it wouldn't be an obstacle. He waved to the nice man sitting on the veranda. Three times a week he came here, earning extra money as a private tutor to the old gentleman.
    Mizrahi climbed the steps of the grand old mansion and shook hands with his student. For a moment there, he felt like Yitzhak Rabin.
    The stubble-faced man smiled warmly at his personal bodyguards, dismissing them. "No interruptions, please," he told them. "It's time for my Yiddishkeit lessons."  
    The sun didn't set over Jericho until they finished.